


Admit It

by gigglefitsandbitchtits



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, constructive criticism plz, first story!, o3o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglefitsandbitchtits/pseuds/gigglefitsandbitchtits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summoner would never admit he adored the Highbloods attention, no matter how cruel and heartlessly he spewed it. He couldn't feel the way he had with Grand Highblood, with even Mindfang. He needed to let him know- how awkward would telling your kismesis you're flushed for them be? Very.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Admit It

**Author's Note:**

> Ive lost my muse.  
> My muse is gone, forever.  
> Gomen, but I couldnt just leave this undone and crap. U__U not that I regret it. I wish there was an option for virtual disintigration.  
> Seriously.

________________________________________________________

The day he'd admit anything, to anyone lower than him, would never come, because the Highblood admitted nothing to no one, and the fact this shitblood decided to bring it up, practically each time they met, was more than a motherfucker to handle. Couldn't a guy get some and leave it be for the next time? No, of course not; with this asshole constantly wanting to "discuss" the recent events. 

"Motherfucker, you never quit talking, do you." He said, with as much restraint he could tolerate on himself, before he goes berserk and has some new paint and no kismesis.

"You should be proud anyone, if anyone who isn't a fucking guard, talk to you! Especially, considering its me!"

Oh, the cockiness that riddled his even, confident tone of voice. He fucking hated it - despised it, actually. Highblood believed at first he could get off and his tensions and worries would disappear. But, now whenever he does, the shit needs to be a ginormous conference between the two; more or less only one, considering Highblood listens to no one, he means, NO ONES Bullshit. 

Speaking of Bullshit, Highblood, in no need for sexual fulfillment, summoned him to his throne room, in needs of discussing some objectives. The throne heavily colored with the decaying bones of Trolls and the concrete slabs that made up the walls, painted, all the colors of the miraculous, literal take-charge rainbow: the hemospectrum, all but the Condesces high magenta blood. Highblood wasn't one to follow that rule openly, with more of a discreet tone than being broad with it, as long as he could kill motherfuckers he didn't like, he would have more than complied. The Summoner, in this case, was a special case, that he himself didnt know why. That was more or less likely another thing Highblood would find out today, with or without consent from his shit fly. 

In this case, he has more than complied, arranging a Kismesis on complete and utter conspicuous conditions. With his heavy desire to see his wings writhe from pleasure- or pain- he yearned for the beauty the Summoner had possessed. He, and many more Highbloods degraded Lowbloods for this, yet they wouldn't allow them to think highly of themselves due to mere adaptations. Survival of the fittest, yet none said they couldnt cheat.

Having him glide whistfully through the open balcony above caused his heart to quake, it yearned for the wings up close. The Highblood further relaxed himself in his throne, a large, dangerously clawed hand was balled, leaning on the arm rest, as his chin leaned against it. He slouched a bit in his throne, the mane he possessed cascading across his broad chest and arms. His eyes heavy and devilish as the Lowblood walked casually to the bottom step of his throne.

The Lowblood cleared his throat and glared at the Highblood. "Well, I wouldnt have expected a summons so soon, I would've tried to look like I gave a shit... Pity."

A guttural and raspy chuckle emitted from the back of his throat as he stood up, glaring down, down at the Summoner, over his horns to admire the wings. "You'll learn to motherfuckin give a shit when I decide to rip those miraculous wings of yours, RIGHT OFF, YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN BACK... Brother."

"I am almost, TOO sure, that this conversation was already brought up. And look!~ Its never happened!" Summoner smiled devilishly, wasnt it sad to see someone try to be cocky and aim for lowblows? It was, the Summoner. As the Highblood took his long, outstretched steps down the stairs of his throne, he focused flickered from the reason he summoned him, and the fact that his wings were amazing- so freeing.

"I'm sure you'd like to get back to having no life, Summoner, but I'm afraid I NEED A NO LIFE LIKE YOU. SEE? I can be oh, so motherfucking thoughtful."

"That makes me feel all the more better of coming to this fuckin place... What do you have to say now?" He had leaned against a large pillar, looking very unamused.

"Other than the motherfuckin FACT, that I despise you. I've come to... A CONCLUSION. IF YOU WILL." He gestured to the front of his throne, just to get a better look at his pixie. "I won't bite... YET, MOTHERFUCKER."

\---- If youve read this prior, presently this would be the second chapter, per say. ----

Oh, the look he gained from the Summoner was enlightening.

"To what am I being forced into, Highblood." He quipped, putting a hand to his hip that jutted softly from the pillar he leaned against. The practical gall of this, oddly, demented but unique troll, made Summoner cringe. This troll held some serious reigns on every living, (an potentially non-living), thing imaginable. Somehow, the dominance got Summoners blood boiling, to the point where his adrenaline knew no bounds. Perhaps, this being one, of many reasons he adored visiting him. No, Summoner wouldnt admit this; he covers it up with annoying the shit out of him.

"To my motherfuckin fist. Get your fairy ass to the front of my throne - you do not want to maticulously ruin my good mood, do you?" That hapless littleshut, he fumed leaning forward aggressively on his thighs, elbows planted harshly before his knee caps, unamused. Now, with the Grand Highblood, his blood boiled as well. Oh, how it boiled. With absolute hate for this piece of shit and his god damned cockiness. But that is thinking too far into the mind of Highblood, now those are dangerous waters to tread.

The Summoner couldnt have been more thrilled. With that upbeat cockiness, he fluttered swiftly to place himself along the bend of Highbloods back, so he leaned his back against Highbloods, and to commemorate his own categorey of obedience, he raised his feet atop his throne. "Ta, fucking, da, Highdick. Now, speak, Im growing bored already."

With a gruff snerk of disdain and aggravation he huffed. "Bored, huh. Well... you seem REAL FUCKING COMFY there, you shit." He decided on stretching, archibg his back to bend at the Summoners, and already he heard light groans and wheezes; ceasing the stretch, he repeats. "You shit."

"Agh... Shit, do that on your own time!"

"Technically, it is."

"... Then another time, ass." He merely scoffed, reaching an arm around to pull at his horn and pull him down, causing him to kneel. With his other hand, the Highblood jerked his face upward. "Youre lucky Im not in that specific mood.."

"Oh, please. Youre always i--"

"The one where I want to mutilate your pretty little face. Pervert." And he released his horn to drop him down the six steps of his throne to the floor, back where the Summoner started.

As the summoner lay curled against the floor, no thanks to a very ungrateful toss of his entire body, he scoffed. He didnt notice any pain when he was curled, but god, when he moved he felt his insides twisting and burning. As he relentlessly aimed for the still annoyance for Highblood, he attempted to look comfortable in his state, stretching himself out on his back, elbows holding himself up strainfully, a sharp pain eliciting his ribs as he tried to lay straightly. "Anything useful regarding your supposed "important" conclusion??"

"Im gonna be motherfuckin blunt about this, AND IN REGARDS, to your outbursts for practically any fucking thing..." He left the seat of his throne and creeping down the steps, to loom and eventually straddle the rust winged being and nail his arms above his head with his hands. Oh, but not without some struggle, receiving a firm punch to the jaw - however unexpected, very expected. Just not in that manner.

"Bastard." He seethed beneath the hulking mass of muscle and anger. He has a hypothesis that since Highblood is so big, and he is mostly angry all the time, his size comes from his pent up anger. Unless his anger is for a reason, Summoner couldnt decide where it could possibly come from...

"Much obliged, shit stain." He chuckled darkly and rolled his jaw a bit, recoiling from the punch. "Now, you will keep your IDIOTIC mouth shut, or I'll fix that. Personally. I will say all I HAVE to, tonight. Understand?"

He looked in Highbloods eyes and, not only felt that awkward sense of admiration, but strict seriousness got him frozen, shutting his parted lips- always ready for snarky comments, as usual. But saying that he had things to say, rather than challenging him in bed, made the Summoner quite uneasy. To his very disdain, and with a roll of his umber eyes, he nodded.

"Right..." He nodded in somewhat a sincere appreciating way, and he stared, thinking of where to start. With a scoff to himself he muttered, fuck it, and cleared his throat. "Im gonna all up and smack this shit quick and say, I no longer wish to see you, Nitram. I know your past experiences with trolls, our motherfuckin circus group and all. I know your advances because thats all I did, as an adolescent. I watched, observed, memorized. And Ive been mocked. Regardless, its quite made a motherfucker scared to know you want somethin with em. I aint for that shit, and I give no shits as to how hurt you'll be cuz you aint gettin laid. No one told you to kill the only one givin you head." He sneered smuggishly. And oh, how he was loving the sheer limpness in the Summoner, even his heart seemed to have phase through the floor.

"Did you think I was too dumb to notice your haphazard clinginess? Your sudden affectionate actions? Youre doin this to a motherfucker when he knows your game. Hes not all up and playing no shitty game, but the one he's already been dealt. Im playin my cards right, and Im sheildin a fuckers heartstrings from damagin shit. If you havent renembered our first encounter, Im not lookin for no red shit. Never have, never will."

The summoner listened intently, no matter how much he's seemed desicrated, probed and invaded, he listened. He thought killing Mindfang was the worst he couldve ever done, and on impulse no doubt. He just, felt this was real. Highblood, well, Kurloz... God, its just been so long, he thought he had forgotten, abandoned that like the rest of their group. But.. The Summoner felt an incredible shame come over him, much like the blood rushing from his arms to his chest to keep him from fainting. 

He was lost in his thoughts about speaking up, telling him that it felt real, but his lips did not once twitch as Highblood spoke, his body did not once retaliate at his words, not once did he take his eyes off of the shifting confusion and seriousness on his face as he spoke. Even when he stated as a matter of factly, he knew his game. He felt himself breath for the first time and he realized that Highblood wasnt looking at him, but instead his wings and part of him feared he would rip at them, again.. but now he wouldnt care.

"Im waiting for a snarky remark, you know. Ive said all I had to tonight, but no matter fuckin what, there'll be somethin goin on in your motherfuckin mind and it'll give you some god, damn, reason to all and show your face at my balcony. I cant do that. I wont--"

"Im not forcing you."

...What..?

Higblood looked in his eyes now, his grip over his wrists hadnt clenched hadnt loosened, they remained their natural way, cupped against his flesh and the floor, and he shifted slightly uncomfortable above him. "What?"

"..." He didnt stutter, and it took him too much to say those four words, and truly, honestly mean them. His relationships were never sport or "just for fun". He wouldnt force or "play" any of his mates. But he seems he's perceived that way by.. someone important and it made him feel like shit. "Let me up, Ill just go, do what Im told.. yknow." 

"No. You leave when I tell you. Saying I dont want to see you, differs from when I want that to occur." He gripped his wrists tightly now and he glared down at him.

"What do you WANT? Do you want blood?? My wings?? My head hung by the horns on your wall?? Fucking take it! I dont care!" He shifted against the grip and snarled pulling and pushing against him.

"..." Without budging, little to nothing at all, he snarled the same, confused like and pissed. "Just fucking talk to me. Can you do that with out the snotty tough guy act? I know how MEASLEY and WEAK you can truly be."

"Fuck you, tough guy act! Pissed as all hell at you! Oh! But you dont want to see me. Great. Fucking. News. Let me the fuck go, and you wont have to wait until you, "order" me to do it!" He sneered staring at him. In substitution to his grave sadness, he resorted to anger. Sometimes, he'd rather make a fool of himself screaming and angry than suicidal and crying his mind out.

"Well, fuck you. Motherfuckers stayin where the fuck he is. You'll have to find another fuckin way out from under me." This was practical pumishment for him not wanting to talk. This was the time, after all. 

"You wont get what you want until I get set free. If /you/ remember from our first encounter, I dont like being held down." His blood pump was racing half a mile an hour with every word. All the closer to spilling a tear from frustration and imminent strain beneath him. It hurts, and he wants to just leave, but something was keeping him there. No restraint. No struggle.

Highblood just couldnt understand, The Summoner had so much free will around him., yet he just wanted more and more of this freedom. Even so much to take it as something serious. He couldnt have a matesprite, or a moirail even, it wasnt him. He didnt want or need it. So why wasnt he moving now? That he got his mind all and changed because its what he wants..? This wasnt too settling. 

But his mind is made up.

"Rufioh. Just.. motherfuckin stop. You look like youre gonna fuckin pop a vessel on my floor. If you arent gonna say anything, then go. Get the fuck lost, fairy boy. Be the motherfuck free." And he released his wrists, sitting up simultaneously and turned his back, feeling a bit regretful. Why? He doesnt know. The little shits being here probably buffed out all anger and shit. God damn it.

He breathed normally for maybe a second but his sudden jerk upward cauaed him to cling to the pillar he leaned against on his right, gasping as though he'd been holding his breath even while speaking. He said his name... The name he.. wanted to forget. He was the Summoner now. But, Highblood didnt even see to be phased by saying it. Though his eyes looked solemn, Summoner felt nostalgic, guilty and sad. "You've no right saying my name. We arent close enough to be on first name basis... we wont ever be."

"Great. Fuckin. News." He mocked grimly, frowning away from him, both of their backs to each other. One was dying on the outside, the other dying from confusion in the inside. 

It stood silent for a while, both of them stood where they were, words trying to form. But nothing. Only tje soft gasping breathes from the Summoner as he fought his traitorous thoughts, running back and admitting that he loved him truly, that this "crush'" was more than flush. Everything from his company, to those endearing after harsh sex cuddles. To think Highblood would cuddle after any -- AT ALL, he means, was beyond him. And thats what he wanted to know, to learn... to love. He wanted to change his mind, change him for good. Who the hell cares about the rebellion? The Summoner was a fool for thinking this, and he was disgusted in himself. He cared about the rebellion, and he was foolish to let love get in the way of what he was, has, been trying to accomplish for sweeps. He chuckled wryly and stretched a bit, leaning against the pillar again.

The time he'd spent observing the Summoner in their adolsence, he didnt understand. Was it simply because of those wings? The way he smiled, even when embarrassed that made him wonder how full of life he was, even when they failed their game drastically? He'd never understand these feelings, other than hate and anger. The pent up shit he couldnt or, just, refused to understand during their alternate session. What was so good about resurrection if you'd still grow up and live a life forged only for you? His think pan swam. He couldnt take this adolescent-hood infatuation seriously, right? No. Its blasphemous to believe such a crush could last through the sweeps. Stupid. Yet he couldnt understand these pangs of confusion. Maybe he needed more time having thoughts on only his side of this "relationship", he didnt know how Summoner felt. At all, actually. That chuckle was unsettling, more so than the very silence that wrapped them in a cocoon of stillness and akwardness; and he blinked out of his daze to mutter in the tiniest voice he feels he couldve ever spoken.

"Got something to say, now, motherfucker?"

"Heh... You can say... this motherfuckers got somthing to say." He looked over his shoulder shortly, a small vengeful grin played across his face. He lost all will to pry, to press. Normally, he wouldnt ever be set on vengeance, but oh, sometimes its sweet. "I honestly have to admit... Its gonna suck being alone in this life time like your other one. Kurloz."

His eyes widened, his blood pump panged with another unfamiliar feeling and he stared at this throne. "Wha.." To his bewilderment the quick rush of wind astonished him, causing him to shield his eyes with a squint and much to his disdain.. as much as his blood pump burned against his chest, he was gone.

He never thought, that staring out his only little escape from the blood, culling, the paper work, the voices. His one true escape that came to help himself escape, literally flew out the window. Gone, as he wished, his command. He felt a heaviness drop to the pit of his gut and his head grow light, he felt he could drop any second. As though his legs were pulled from under him on a whim. What can he think? What would he do? Why does he feel this way?

He has a very, very distinct geelinh, he wouldnt find out on his own. Or with help from him and, now, he stood alone in his throne room, dumbfounded. All those priviledges, the times, the... Hell, even the cuddles. Those god damn things made him feel so comfortable. Its hard living alone, regardless of these Subjugglators, and the maids and hell! Even the slaves! None of them, can ever give him the freedom, the smiles, the affection no matter as much of it was cocky and shrewd from the Summoner. It wad something more.. and now, he stood at the base of his throne, in which he stared at the still rising moons in the east, the soft thin moonlights filtering through the open balcony windows above his door, cascading across the large walls and the larger staircase wrapping around the length of the room.

He ended, as he had started. He finally got what he has wanted. No relationship, no ties. Just himself, on the path that was forged for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Im just glad I finished this damn thing. So, heres the rest, on the SAME chapter. Get over it. Ive become so disdainful towards this piece of writing. Just.. *glares angrily like you can die and never come back.* I forgot what I was ever attempting in this, and I gave it my best shot.


End file.
